


In Loving Memories

by SeniorBro



Series: Boxed Memories [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Descriptions of mental illness, Fluff, I guess angst?, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Reader has depression, happy ending though I promise, it might have some bits after all that but idk i havent gotten there yet, no betas we die like men, sharing is caring, some of it before the mystery shack, some of this takes place before weirdmageddon, this is written mainly for my gay butt but like yall can read it too if youd like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeniorBro/pseuds/SeniorBro
Summary: This takes place before Boxed Memories, which I will get to, and is a collection of sweet little stories of Stan's and reader's relationship and a bit about the reader himself (It's basically me setting up the path to Boxed Memories). Lots of comfort, lots of goofing off, and lots of Stan lovin'.
Relationships: Stan Pines/Male Reader, Stan Pines/Reader, Stanley Pines/Reader, stanley pines/male reader
Series: Boxed Memories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687483
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Lazy Noons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is like my first time doing a reader insert so I hope this is up to par or at least the bare minimum. This was heavily inspired by many other Stan lovers on here and my awful habit of being so incredibly sentimental and keeping so many scraps of paper, stuffed animals, and nic nacs given to me other the years. This is a Male reader because I'm gay and also starving for male reader inserts. Anyways I hope you enjoy this, please don't mind any typos it's 11:30 pm and I started this at 8 pm after a lot of convincing myself to just do it. Please let me know if ya'll like this and would like to see more because I definitely have more I'd love to share, thanks for reading! -SeniorBro

The days, although full of excitement, new experiences and mysteries, seemed to drag by pleasantly with each passing week as the new residents of the Mystery Shack settled into their new routine. The house seemed so full of life and zest since the two arrived here, it wasn’t apparent until now that it was exactly what you and your crotchety partner needed to keep you on your feet. This day in particular seemed blissfully steady as the kids were busy keeping each other company in the living room as Stan worked the crowd in the shack. You spent your time lingering around the children and peeking into the gift shop every now and then to make sure things stayed as peaceful as it felt. As exhilarating as the mysteries of this town can be, it was nice to have an afternoon of warm, lazy breezes and time to spend with Dipper and Mabel. At the moment, Mabel kept her hands busy with a little bit of drawing, a little bit of knitting, and a little bit of petting Waddles. She was by far not the best multitasker, but she seemed to have set a small routine for herself so she wouldn’t get too bored with one thing over the other. Dipper, on the other hand, kept his nose buried deep into the crossword puzzle booklet you had gotten him on your last grocery run. He loved to keep his mind as well as his hands busy on lazy days such as these, and you loved to find the perfect puzzle books for Dipper to enjoy. You must admit, you borderline spoil these children every chance you get- but they make it so easy to love them enough to do so. 

“And remember, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refund’!” 

The loud exclamation followed by the bang of the gift shop’s door closing pulled you from your thoughts as you stood from leaning against the wall that led into the living room. 

“Whew, what a crowd- you should’ve seen the looks on their faces when I showed them the ducktapus,” Stan said with his usual smirk as he walked to stand next to you, gripping the lapel of his suit. “Blew their minds right outta their skulls.” 

You rolled your eyes in amusement as your smile tugged at your face more. You weren’t aware you had been smiling, but you’ve caught yourself smiling more since Dipper and Mabel came to stay for the summer. That’s not to say you weren’t happy before, but now you felt obliged to show more clearly how you felt with your expressions. Before you even knew they were coming, you and Stan had fallen into a silent understanding of each other. Your smiles weren’t as bright or as wide, body language wasn’t as exaggerated, voices weren’t as expressive. It’s been a long 52 years, and while the love hasn’t faded, the eagerness to wildly express your own emotions has. 

“What? There's no way anyone fell for that one,” Dipper said, looking up from the booklet in disbelief. “It’s just a duck with the bill of a platypus; which we got from a duck.” He said, waving his pen-free hand skeptically towards Stan. You had to agree with him. Besides, both ducks weren’t even real; something you had to thank the local thrift shop for. 

“Well, what can I say? I sure know how to play those suckers.” Stan proudly quips. 

“Yeah, you were able to sucker this sucker into marrying you!” Mabel retorts loudly, pointing at you with the cheekiest grin she could muster before punching a fist into the air. “Heyo!” 

You didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise, but you did join in with the laughter as Mabel and Dipper shared a swift high-five. Stan, however, scoffed before wrapping an arm around your waist, drawing you closer. 

“Please, I didn’t need to do any suckering,” he smirks, “all I had to do was give him the good ole Pines charm.” 

You hummed in thought as you leaned into him lightly, planting an innocent smile on your face. “I see, is that what you call it?” 

Another round of ‘ooooooh’s and ‘heyo’s made their way around the room as your boyfriend gave you a feigned look of offense. You muttered a quick ‘just kidding’ as you gave him a chaste kiss on his jawline. This, of course, earned both of you adoring ‘awe’s from Mabel and a sarcastic “Aw, gross!” from Dipper.


	2. Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a tad longer than I anticipated but I really felt this chapter- it heavily focuses on depression and mental illness and draws a lot from personal experiences but it is not at all nsfw. It's simply about those days when everything on the inside and outside hurts and how reader and Stan handle it. Thanks for reading! -SeniorBro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I literally just finished this and I got too excited to read it over for typos (I'll do that later) so please don't mind them for now.

No matter how many times you think you’ve found happily ever after, the ravenous void set between your heart and abdomen seemed to grow once you felt content. It was relentless and starving, feeding off of your life force, draining everything from you that made you feel human. You wish you could say it wasn’t always like this, but it's been too long for you to remember a time when it wasn’t. It was hard to let these feelings be known to Stan, but you knew you wanted to be with him for the long run. Ever since you stepped foot outside of your apartment confident to leave the life you made in New Jersey behind to be with him you knew sooner or later he would have to know. It was painful and heart wrenching, but the relief you felt when he understood that these feelings, and sometimes lack of, were not conscious decisions you swore you cried for a solid hour. To this day, you still don’t know why you cried. It could have been from the pent up fear you tried to hide, or the relief he still wanted you around, or maybe you simply had not allowed yourself to cry for so long that it all came out in that moment of vulnerability. Whatever those tears were for, the way Stan held you made you think that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of being loved. 

Somedays you still believe that you’re able to be loved. Other days you regret burdening your partner with your presence. Contrary to media portrayal, Stan couldn't love your illness away. That never stopped him from trying, however, bless his persistent soul. Back in the days of swifter movement and less joint pain, Stan knew when you had fallen into a pit of mental darkness that you shouldn’t hide away from the world underneath cotton sheets until further notice. During those days you could never find the motivation to take care of yourself, so Stan took it upon himself to do it for you. This usually began with him leaving you alone for an hour or two after waking up to check on you, then, if you hadn’t gotten up by the time he got back, he’d pluck you right out of bed and into the bathroom to at least brush your teeth. There were times where you had fought back, calling him not so PG13 names and gripping the sheets in a vain attempt to stay tucked away in comfy isolation. You knew he did this because he cared, because he ‘would hate to see you rot away’. Despite your many protests, you let him take you. If you were ever dead set on staying in bed, you wouldn’t yell. It wasn’t that you were calmer, you simply did not have the energy to fight back. Stan knew those were the days to let you linger in bed for a while longer. Of course, this method probably isn’t the best, but it was as close to the best for the both of you. 

These days he could still carry you out of the room, but with the kids around, you didn’t want them to see either of you two go through that circus of a routine. These days he would simply stay in bed longer, saying how he was going to open up later anyways, and mummer sweet memories until you kick him out of bed or get up with him. 

Today, he did just that. His arms held you tightly into his chest, his stubbly chin lightly scratched against the top of your head as you kept your hands to yourself. He was warm yet firm in his grasp, you were sure if it was any other day he would have left by now due to the heat of the morning, but he stayed. His scent was strong, surrounding you in his natural musk and cheap, faded cologne. His worn hands lightly rubs circles on and around your shoulder blades, reminding you he’s there with you, for you. The memory he recalls today is one from long ago, in a diner that no longer exists in a town you’ve forgotten the name of. The two of you were young, reckless, and fresh on the run. While the both of you didn’t have much to your names, it was one or the other’s birthday, and both decided to splurge a little. He remembers putting a dollar on the table of the booth we sat at, then setting a salt shaker over it. He says something about not being able to get the dollar without moving the shaker, but if you somehow managed to you would get to keep the dollar. 

You hardly remember the next part, but Stan does as he chuckles through his recollection. You had taken him up on his offer but mentioned that there was tape underneath the shaker, making the dollar stick to it. Perplexed, and without a second thought, Stan picks the shaker up to prove it wasn’t rigged, only for you to quickly snatch the dollar and shove it into my pocket. Genius, he said, commenting about how that was the moment he knew he made the right choice to ask you to come with him. It was enough to make the weight in my chest a bit lighter, but the memory of almost getting kicked out of the diner due to our shared, roaring laughter was what made you smile. At least I felt like I was smiling, during these days I never knew for sure. Stan gives you a gentle kiss against my forehead before asking if you wanted to get up. You lingered on the thought for a while, who knows exactly how long, but you soon agreed to leave the bed. Not so much that you felt completely better, but you knew that if you stayed any longer Dipper and Mabel would be up soon, and you had already promised them the other day you would make breakfast. It was a simple task, but an anxiety-inducing one. On one hand, you loved those kids to pieces, but on the other hand you didn’t want them to see you during these days. 

Stan waits a couple of moments before moving to get up, beckoning you to join him. It was a slow process, but you finally made my way from the bedroom, to the bathroom, and eventually downstairs. Everything felt draining, every object you picked up was heavy, and everything you said wasn’t said loud enough. Stan was right by you the entire time, however, pushing you little by little through the process of waking up and getting ready for the day. 

Once the kids got downstairs the pit of despair in your chest pulled harder at your heart, attempting to drag it into its poisonous grip. You tried hard to smile, to talk, to make pancakes. It was almost too much, almost too much to handle- 

“Grunkle [yn], don’t tell grunkle Stan but you’re my favorite.” Mabel whispered comically loud for the whole room to hear after you placed the chocolate chip pancakes on her plate. Giggling, she shoveled a mouthful of pancake into her mouth while Stan grumbled a ‘hey’ at her in fake annoyance. 

Things like family, partners, friends, or medicine might not ever completely eradicate this cold, unforgiving illness inside of me, but they certainly help.


	3. We can't be too old for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man I just love grifter Stan. Anyways this is just a tid bit of life on the run and the small moments that everything seem alright.   
> Hope you enjoy! -SeniorBro

Despite the bitter cold, the food stained seats, the raindrops that slipped through unseen cracks, and the flickering parking lot light that threatened to burn out at any second, you felt a subtle comfort that kept you calm. You might have been hungry, your legs might be aching from the most recent misadventure, but the soft rumble of your boyfriend’s snoring eased you into a dreamy state. You had insisted on letting Stan use your upper torso as a pillow, wanting to end the exhausting day of avoiding an angry mob of duped customers with your hands caressing his greasy hair. It had been a while since the both of you had a proper shower, but that hardly kept you from wanting to express your love with loving touches. His arms were wrapped loosely around your back as he had settled himself between your legs, resting his head just beneath your neck. You could tell he tried hard to not put all of his body onto you, but after falling asleep it grew a bit harder to breath; but that never bothered you. You were just happy he finally fell asleep at all. 

It had been just about a year since the both of you had left New Jersey, leaving behind everything and everyone that made it home. While you weren’t entirely sure, you felt that Stan was getting homesick, or he was regretting ever leaving in the first place. You could feel him stay up late into the night, shifting and thinking. You were never good at sleeping through the night, but Stan usually slept like a rock. You never brought it up or tried to talk to him when he contemplated, he rarely wanted to talk about these things, always trying to seem strong and study through rough times. 

You bent down a bit to kiss his forehead, holding him tighter to you. You never wanted to let him go, you wanted to be there for him too. You wanted to be strong for him, but you didn’t know how. Maybe in the morning you could talk to him about it. For now, you just wanted to make sure he stayed asleep. 

The light outside finally flickered one last time before shrouding you in complete darkness. Stan shifted lightly, burying his cold nose into your neck. You wanted to jolt and push him off, but you decided a disgruntled noise would cause less damage. 

“Thought you were asleep.” Stan chuckled softly before leaving a light kiss against your collar bone. You huffed as you planted another kiss on the top of his head. 

“Hush, you cold bastard, go back to sleep.” You could feel him smiling against your chest, happy to have annoyed you during your deep thinking. He knew how much you loathed the cold and always used it to his advantage, whether it was sticking his cold hands down your shirt or turning on the almost broken AC in the car when you least expected it. 

Stan gives a playful scoff before snuggling into you more, shifting his weight off of you a bit. 

“Like you can tell me what to do.”  
“Maybe I can,”  
“Oh yeah?” 

A smirk crosses your face, knowing you’ll have to prove yourself. Usually you would spew off a slew of fictitious threats, maybe even throw in a few exaggerated punches aimed towards nothing in particular, but you thought it was a good time to change up your routine.   
Without so much as a glance towards him you slide your arms down to the hem of his shirt, shimmying the stained garment up until your fingers attack his soft sides with experienced fingers. Stan wasn’t the most ticklish person you’ve met, but if you knew exactly where to assault him with wriggling fingers you could take him down in seconds. 

Which is exactly what you were able to do. 

“You ass!” Was all Stan was able to get out between spurts of boisterous laughs and gasps of air. Despite his flailing and single attempt to sit up you charged on, unafraid to laugh at his expense. 

“Knock it off! Stop stop stop- I’ll-” You couldn’t hear the rest of his threat, but you could feel it as his fingers dug into your waist. 

“You monster!” You shrieked, doing your best to shove him off the car seat the both of you were just relaxing on. You could feel the car jerk around with each shove, poorly executed evasive maneuver, and tickle attack; although that didn’t keep the both of you from continuing each assault. 

“Give it up, [yn], there’s no turning back now!” Stan declared as he managed to wrap his arms around yours, trapping you into him. This would have been a brilliant victory if he hadn’t pinned you with his back towards the edge of the seat. 

“For glory!” Was all you could cry before kicking your legs out to push both of you off the seat and onto the garbage covered floor. At least that’s where Stan landed, as you had landed on Stan. 

Taking a moment to process what had happened and catch the breath that was crushed out of him, you could only help but laugh at what you imagined was a very pathetic scene. Two young, dirty men on the floor of an even dirtier car trying to enjoy the meager life they’ve made for themselves through childish tactics such as tickling and name calling. Who would have thought these days would become memories that were worth recalling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if its noticeable that I didn't get around to proof reading this- maybe one day I will. But not today.   
> Thanks for reading! -SeniorBro


	4. Relaxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relaxation but at what cost? Lots of kisses and one (1) interruption. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if there is a specific scenario you'd like to see as I am open for whatever is potentially thrown my way!  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -SeniorBro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse! I'm sorry. This was pretty fun to write but I feel like I need to steer away from it being a bit reader centric? At least I think it is. I also want to add more dialog but I am trying super duper hard to keep it as close to the characters as I can and then I get anxious and then I don't do as much as I want to sefkhwbekhwur. But anyways, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
> 
> -SeniorBro

Sometimes relaxing was more than isolation and shallow, distressing thoughts. Sometimes it was nice and somewhat passionate, something that allowed you to cloud your thoughts with simple acts of love and the person you shared them with. 

It wasn’t a terrible evening, but it was certainly a busy one. The children had busied themselves with a new adventure and new, admittedly creative, ways to make a mess from it. While you didn’t mind cleaning up after them too much it took the better part of the last two hours for you to erase every trace of glitter and scrap paper from the living room. Glitter, something once enjoyed by your childlike wonder was now the unending curse of the arts and crafts table. 

At one point you didn’t even know what was trash and what was part of a new gadget or gizmo Dipper had made for their latest escapade. As much as you loved their adventurous spirits, it worried you how often they put themselves in danger. Something about queenless gnomes, something about killer wax figures, it was all getting to be too much for you to handle. You weren’t your young, spry, wrinkless self anymore; constantly on the run, jumping through figurative and literal hoops without a second thought. Now if you stretched the wrong way you’d feel it for the next three years. You feared you wouldn’t be able to always be there for them while they stayed the summer. Hell, you feared you wouldn’t be able to connect with them well before they arrived. 

Never married, never started a family, never even talked about it. You loved Stan more than you know, but ever since you could remember you believed you weren’t made for any of that nonsense. You loved Stan and he loved you, that was more than you could ever wish for. 

This love, although not as much spoken, was certainly felt. You could feel it through his hands, through his chest and in his study heartbeat. Stan wasn’t the most spontaneous man in the world, but some days he seemed to read your soul better than you could interpret it. Holding each other closely as all inconsequential nonsense such as time and mysterious wet substances on the carpet that smelled suspiciously like soap and lemonade drifted into the depths of your mind as you focused on his breathing and grip. It was overwhelmingly adorable, seeing this gruff, sometimes jerk of a man tear down his own walls just to express his feelings in the lull of the evening crowd. You couldn’t tell what made him so affectionate at the moment, but you needed it. 

You squeezed your arms over his broad shoulders, melting into the feeling of him doing the same before leaving a bristly kiss against your cheek. It was familiar and soothing in a way that made you chuckle against him. 

Stan lets out a content sigh before pulling away just enough to see you, donning a gentle smirk before he spoke. 

“What are you up too, sugar?”  
“Cleaning, or at least trying to,” You reply with your own smile, “Got distracted by some old man in a funny hat.” 

He scoffs at the use of ‘old man’ before crossing his arms in protest. 

“Well, if that’s how you’re gonna act,” He looks away toward some unknown audience, “then you’re not getting any of this.” He emphasises his statement by gesturing to himself, turning his relaxed smile into his usual snarky grin. You could only let out a snicker before turning away to finish your cleaning. 

“Hmm, alright, fine by me.” You could practically feel his grin fall from his face as he watched you pick up yet another broken crayon, quickly dropping his arms back to his sides. 

“Wh- uh,” Stan sputtered as you continued to ignore him. It might be cruel, but you always knew how to get him back to his cuddly side. 

“Awe, come on, babe,” He said, reaching for your arm as you continued to look away from him. 

“Hm? I’m sorry, do I know you?” You reply, desperately trying to hide your grin as you went towards the kitchen. At least that was the plan, if Stan hadn’t nearly pounced on you, dragging yourself into him by your waist. 

“Why you little,” He murmurs as he plants a slew of sloppy kisses against your neck. You could feel his smile grow as he continued his onslaught of pecks. You could only burst into a fit of laughter, surprised at Stan’s sudden attack of smooches and strong embrace. 

“Thought you could just walk away from me, huh?” Stan muttered between kisses as you pretended to struggle out of his grasp. 

“You old coot!” Was all you could get out before giving in, reaching up to cup the side of his face as you turned to kiss his temple. 

After a brief moment of loose giggles and smooching a weak, yet prominent cough was heard from the entrance of the Mystery Shack gift shop. 

“Uhm, Mr. Pines, the next group is waiting,” Soos timidly said, looking everywhere but at the two old lovebirds in the hallway. 

“But if you're busy I could tell them, like, a bear is loose in the Mystery Shack or something. Or maybe you died, or I died. Oh! I could be, like, a ghost dude-”  
“Get out of here, Soos.” 

Stan said sternly, clearly irritated to be interrupted. You felt bad from keeping him from work, but sometimes you felt it was ok to be a bit selfish.  
“Right, don’t worry Mr. Pines, I’ll get them warmed up for you.” Soos said with misplaced determination before giving off a small salute and disappearing into the gift shop. A muffled ‘So, what’s up with airplane food?’ could be heard from the other side of the door.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Stan reluctantly let go and fix his suit. 

“Duty calls, sweetcheeks.” 

You didn’t want him to leave, but all you could do was kiss him goodbye and call him an old man again before he left. 

If there was anyone you could relax with for the rest of your existence, you were glad you had already found him.


	5. New day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh it is incredibly short but I got super inspired,,,  
> Thank you for reading!  
> -SeniorBro

“Good morning Mr. pines, good morning Mr. Pines.” Soos said enthusiastically as he made his way into the gift shop to start the day, greeting both you and Stan as some last minute preparations were being finished. It wasn’t too often you were called ‘Mr. Pines’, seeing as how you never officially got married, but hearing it always made your heart swell. Stan grumbled his own greeting, busying himself with a stain on the cash register. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, but sometimes he got up early enough to make you question that. 

Smiling at Soos you made your usual offer to make coffee, and Stan made his usual offer to take the coffee fee from Soos’s paycheck. Nudging Stan in ribs you offered a polite smile towards Soos.

“No thanks, dude, I already got my food stuff.” Soos replied as he headed towards the tool kit he left in the shop. The big fella seemed to leave it everywhere- and when he most desperately needed it, the kit would disappear into the storage closet where it belonged. It was interesting to find it sometimes, seemingly popping up in the perfect position to stub your toe on it to remind you who's boss. 

“Suit yourself, but after this pot the coffee maker is closed until further notice.” Stan muttered after he gave up trying to scrub down the register. That determined look of his slowly turned into an annoyed grimince as he accepted defeat- some stains were just meant to stay, he supposed. 

A soft, personal chuckle left your lips as you turned to leave the little shop. Of course, not before bidding your rusty knight in tin foil armor goodbye. 

“I’m going to start on the kids breakfast,” You said to no one in particular, “be good while I’m gone.” You said to one person in particular as you left a light kiss on his temple. Stan simply rolled his eyes and replied with a huffed ‘yes, dear’ as you sauntered out of the room, your smile genuine at his antics. These might not be important times, or even the most memorable, but they were your moments together that made them count.


	6. Mabel juice? You think?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lmao rip Stan pines 2020  
> Just a silly little story about Mabel Juice, fears of failing as a temporary parental figure, and lemon stealing.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> -SeniorBro

“Kids! Are you home?” Groceries in arms, you attempt to shimmy your way through the door without too many casualties. “That depends!” A distant voice replied from the depths of the shack, followed by the undeniable sound of a child running and maybe something breaking. “Did you get all the ingredients?” Mabel asked, her smile beaming and glowing with excitement (and glitter?) as she barely kept herself from barreling into you. 

“Ah, yes, m’lady’s list of demands,” You paused, “Wait, ingredients? I suppose they could be...” You said wearily as you tried to remember the quickest route to the doctors office. Just in case. 

“Yup! Ingredients for my world famous Mabel Juice!” Flinging her arms in the air for added ‘pizzazz’, as the kids say these days. It was charming, definitely going to watch her very closely as she makes the juice, but still charming. 

Speaking of charming, Stan shoves his way into the shack with his own armful of groceries. 

“Hey, pumpkin, mind helping out your favorite grunkle?” He asks with that timeless grin of his. It was a simple display of content, but it always made your heart a little lighter at the sight. 

Mabel laughed out an ‘ok’ before grabbing a bag from my arms and running off to the kitchen with it. There was a beat of stunned silence before a burst of pride filled my chest. Of course, as an adult, you handled it like a champ. 

“Hah!” Accompanied by an enthusiastic fist pump- a classic show of self celebration for a classy man such as yourself. You could feel the smug grin of accomplishment cement itself on your face as Stan went after Mabel, spouting accusations of familial betrayal and a smidge of bribery for her to reconsider her decision.

While you like to say you're not the competitive type, you have your moments. Moments such as these, proving to your beloved Stan that you can grunkle circles around him. Although to be honest, you’re not exactly sure when this so-called competition started. When Stan told you about the twins staying over the summer you may or may not have panicked. Well, not panic per say- you were just very incredibly concerned about your lack of child knowledge and the mysterious and powerful creatures that lurked about in Gravity Falls. 

But most of all you worried about the impact the both of you would have on them. Neither of you were exactly the child rearing type- you almost felt as if you were destined to simply be a grunkle rather than a father. These fears slowly eased away as time went on, but there's still a little bundle of fear stuck between your throat and heart. You wanted to protect them from everything- from outside and inside forces. If it were possible you would take on any pain they felt as your own to keep them from hurting, but you also knew that there are certain things you learn from pain that can’t be taught. It was conflicting and scary and confusing but you don’t regret a second with them. Yes, they get into trouble, break things, make horrendous messes, keep the household up with their individual shenanigans, run off to places they shouldn’t go and witness things they shouldn’t see, and maybe you should have stopped Stan from letting Mabel keep that grappling hook, but once upon a time you knew a curious set of twins that got into twice as much trouble as Dipper and Mabel and they turned out… Alright. 

“Uh, Mabel, I don’t think juice is supposed to boil.” 

Oops- that’s my cue to keep someone from going to the hospital. 

You ventured cautiously into the now glitter coated kitchen. Dipper stood by Mabel and her… juice? You weren’t entirely sure, but all you knew was no one was getting a sip of that anytime soon. 

“Hey, sweety, what do we have here?” You said gently as you tried to be casual about the boiling concoction- which, as normal as it sounds for this household, the impressive part of this ordeal was the fact that the juice was nowhere near the stove at any point of its creation. 

“Mabel juice! I’m trying to make a new flavor!” Mabel chimed, excitement bubbling almost as much as the drink in front of her. “Is it death? Because that’s what it looks like.” Dipper said as he tried to keep his distance from the mixture, his troubled expression only growing as the drink began to fizz. 

For a moment there was a look exchanged between you and Stan, that now all too familiar look of ‘Huh, no one taught us how to handle this kind of situation’. It was brief, but the mutual understanding of ‘maybe we should stop this from happening’ got through. 

“Uh, Mabel, honey, maybe the Mabel Juice can wait for a bit,” Stan announced as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.  
That. Bastard.

A grin spread across his face as he pulled out a lemon. You hate him. You really do.

“Why not try to make some old fashioned lemonade for a change.” Stan said as he placed said lemon onto the table and began to pull out more from the surprisingly deep depths of his pockets.

“Woah, woah, woah, grunkle [yn] let you steal those?” Mabel asked as she watched Stan put the fourth one down before reaching into another pocket. 

“I,” you said indignantly, “didn’t let him steal anything, that little weasel must have snuck off.” You grumbled, sending the deadliest glare you could muster Stans way as he sheepishly pulled out a lime without making eye contact. He knew he was going to get an earful later. 

“It’s not my fault you have a blind spot, sweetums.” 

Time of death, five minutes from now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Stan lives- old habits just die hard.


	7. Whats a little family crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan tries to bond with the kids through crimes even after he and [yn] wanted to keep them out of legal trouble.

While the both of you were good at keeping to yourselves and sending out a white lie here and there, you couldn’t help but feel as if your summer guests would see right through your carefully constructed charade. Weeks before their arrival you went over a multitude of scenarios in your head- most of which ended in not so pleasant ways. Not that you thought you wouldn’t like them, but if they were half as clever as their grand uncles you might as well give up on your new fabricated life. 

After the first few years living as [yn] it got easier, but there was always that worry about it all falling apart in the back of your mind. You liked living in Gravity Falls, you liked the nature in it, the strangely comforting presence of its people, the unique atmosphere that dug its way into the roots of the history and the land. The cozy little town felt like home now, embedding its comfort in your chest and lungs every time you ran errands or went on a simple walk. 

Of course, it was also nice to live with Stan and build your new life together, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You loved Stan in his entirety, from the softest parts of him to the hardest. He was adroit, stubborn, quick witted, rash, devoted, cocky, doting- a man of complex insecurities and simple needs. He was complicated, like most others, but his complications fit like the missing shards of glass in your broken mirror that created the full reflection of your cracked soul. 

Some days you were certain it wasn’t the town that you were particularly attached to, but instead the fact that you lived here with Stan. Other days you were writing his obituary on the ride home. You could never stay mad at him too long, but some days you truly did try. You were sure Stan had those days with you too, but he never showed it in the same ways you did. You always wanted to express yourself through your words whereas Stan would express himself through his actions- or through his inactions. 

You were both admittedly petty, but not in explosive or hurtful ways. A snide remark would escape your lips while he pretended you weren’t there; a small, biting comment would be thrown Stan’s way about how he always remembered things until it was time to clean while he would make a show about how much he didn’t care about the cleanliness of the house. By the end of the day all arguments would be resolved through soft, eye contactless apologies. Stan never liked these things to go unresolved no matter how small the matter might have been. You didn’t either, but you never had any problems with letting the dispute linger. 

It's not like you two argued on a daily basis- after years of being through crisis after crisis usually stiffles out the need for a debate every waking moment, but sometimes there were those moments where he made your skin crawl.

Times such as these, catching your beloved Stanly with his niece and nephew making counterfeit money. Again. 

Toe tapping, ‘ahem’, mother bear energy exuded from you as you are yet again glaring daggers at Stan. He promised he would stop these little ‘projects’ before the kids came over for the summer. Lecture after lecture of restating the story of this make believe [yn], hiding any evidence of the abandoned (at least that's what you were told) portal, putting away anything that even hinted at the true identity of the household. Here he was, nonetheless, going as far as involving the children in his schemes. You had your own secrets and vices, but this was making your blood boil. 

It was one thing for you or Stan to get in trouble, but the children were different. Perhaps you were too optimistic, thinking that things would change over the summer- but right now all you wanted to do was give Stan a piece of your mind. 

. . . 

“Stan-”

“Oh, come on, pudding- it isn’t that bad,”   
“Stan Pines, if I had a nickel for everytime you said that and it wasn't the case, I’d have enough money to buy the Northwest manor!” Stan winced a bit at your biting tone, seemingly shrinking into himself. After the both of you moved your conversation to the bedroom, away from Dipper and Mabel, you took your usual cross-armed, stiff, ‘you’re sleeping on the couch’ stance. Stan’s hands were up in front of his chest, palms facing you as he tried to convince you that ‘it isn’t that bad if you’re spending time with the kids’. 

“Ok, I know that we said we wouldn’t do anything to get in trouble, but you know how kids are- they’re always getting into trouble anyways.” Stan defended himself. At the moment, you’d hate to say he was right, but he was. Those two were always running away from something or other; however, that wasn’t the point. 

“I know how much trouble they already get into, but we shouldn’t be the reason they get into even more trouble, Stan.” You said sternly. Stan sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his other hand on his hip. Stan muttered to himself quickly before he looked up again. 

“Listen, [yn], even if we did get caught it’s not like any of us would get into too much trouble. I mean, have you seen the sheriffs?” Stan replied as he began to chuckle. 

You stood silently in your place, narrowing your glare at him. You hated it when you felt like he wasn’t listening to your concerns- like he wanted to make it seem like you were overreacting. It hurt, but you didn’t want to ignore him or the situation. You didn’t want to be that person. 

After a defeated sigh, you tried to calmly make your case. 

“Stan, I know you can take care of yourself if anything happens, and I know how. . . unprofessional, the police department here is, but it took a lot of trust for the kids to be sent here for a summer. Do you really want to do anything to jeopardize that trust?” 

Stan contemplated your words, a soft look of disappointment forming on his face. 

“It’s not only the trust of their parents we need, it’s the children’s too. I know they get into, well, odd situations, but I don’t want there to be a correlation between spending time with us means getting to serious trouble.” 

Stans arms crossed, looking everywhere that wasn’t in your direction. You could tell this time your words were getting to him, but you didn’t want to push it. There was a beat of silence before Stan let out a heavy sigh. 

“Ok, ok. . .” Stan muttered, “I guess you’re right. . .” 

Despite how satisfying it was to hear him say it, as he rarely did, you rolled your eyes and shook your head lightly. Finally uncrossing your arms you walked towards him and pulled his face towards you. 

“Are you really going to pout?” You asked as you let a little smile slip. Stan huffed as he held one of your hands against his face, leaning to kiss it. 

“Shut up.” 

Of course, even after your discussion there were still questionable adventures waiting to happen, but what could you possibly expect from the Pines family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways yeah its pretty hard to break old habits but damn if you didn't try. I think I might start on the real story this was all setting for just cause I wanted to put some basics down and write silly little things here and there. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!  
> -Seniorbro


End file.
